


A Psychedelic Mao Mao

by Jordan_Epochs



Series: Pure Heart Tales From The Dark [1]
Category: Mao Mao: Heroes of Pure Heart (Cartoon)
Genre: Gen, Narrative
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-10-10
Updated: 2019-10-10
Packaged: 2020-11-28 21:15:16
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,083
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20973164
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Jordan_Epochs/pseuds/Jordan_Epochs
Summary: Mao Mao writes about the events taking place immediately after losing his tail and being betrayed by Bao Bao.





	A Psychedelic Mao Mao

I am writing this journal as an attempt to document my first adventure that I did alone. My first adventure without Bao Bao. I will reflect on these events. Logging all my thoughts and feelings. Recording them then and now, to the best of my ability. Hopefully, by finally writing it all down, I can finally get over this nonsense that has stuck with me ever since I have returned from the jungle. I may be finally able to one step forward to becoming a legendary hero. At least that's what I am told. Once this journal is complete, it will be destroyed. Burned. This event will fade into dust, and hopefully the same will be for my memory of everything that had happened. 

I remember his betrayal. I remember reaching out, begging for him not to go. I remember the feeling of losing part of my spine. All these events swiped down on me, accompanied by this loud crunch that I could feel and hear with toxic aftermath to chase it down. A sharp, cold, poisonous feeling that started from my lower back and spread everywhere else. It's scathing tendrils wrapped around every part of me and squeezed my form, tightly. The shock set its fangs in me, and it didn't plan on letting go. Perhaps it was for the better, at the moment. Because it was a lot easier to rip off a part of myself from between a rock a hard place when I couldn't even really feel it. Regardless of feeling I screamed, I yelled, I cried out. My body had gone primal, while my mind had left altogether. All of this episode was to no one. That was probably for the best as well. To been seen as weak on top of that bloody mess would have been to die right then and there but still feel all the torment that comes with the territory. I crawled over to rock to lay against, still screaming in sharp bursts from my chest.  
Wounded, bleeding, dying. I don't understand why I screamed since I really couldn't feel it. Maybe it's what I thought I should do. What was correct? I wasn't sure. I'm still not. I laid there for a while, feeling nothing, saying nothing, I was nothing. My body, propped against a rock, was crying over the loss of itself. Or at least a part of itself. A part of me. I was suddenly thrown back into my broken husk form when my body finally comprehended the sensation of blood and spinal fluid starting to pool near my feet. Then the clawing began to ring through my head. It had always been there, but only then had I started to hear it. I could pick up its growling behind the bolder. I had trapped it there. For how long I wasn't sure. It wanted me. It wanted more of me or the rest of me. It wanted out. This jump-started my descent down the mountain. I rolled off. I let my body whirl down this rocky mass. My only thought was to getaway. To get away from the clawing, the roars, the fear. I don't think I cared about dying and the idea my soul not make with the greats. I just wanted to get anywhere but there. Away. Away from it. 

I tumbled for what felt like a forever state of being stabbed in the dark with tiny knives. The contact of my corpse with mountain's rocky contours made a deafening percussion. The sound was like glass shards meeting flesh unabridged. When I finally stopped, I thought I was dead. That I met the incarnation of death that we all fear. Darkness, no feeling, only a ringing all-encompassing pain. A stinging vexation that stays for all eternity. I reached out in the agonizing blackness and grabbed a handful of earth. I pulled myself forward.  
I wasn't dead. Not yet. I was forcing myself forward, by some automatic protocol within. I did the same with the other arm. I repeated this monotony to my body's content. Crawling. Slithering. I felt like the lowest form of life in those moments. In a sense I was. Still am. 

After a while, I must have faded into actual death. Nothing. Not even the awareness of nothing to accompany me. A perverted, cruel unconsciousness. This state of being was sort lived, however. I woke up in a blurry haze. I tried to move, to scream, all to no avail. It hurt too much to move anything that wasn't already moving non-voluntarily. The aura of this foggy melted dungeon scared me. It felt old, it's stone confines were cold. Hallow. Then I felt an irregular acute pain in my sides. This helped me to finally scream. It wasn't so much as a scream as it was a whimper. I was sure that my ribs had cracked. Everything that didn't ache moaned in agony. I felt broken, I feared that I wouldn't be able to move on. I was broken. My dreams of being legendary died for a moment in this murky cellar. The idea of my aspirations dying hurt more than any physical ailments I could ever endure.  
Abruptly, two figures came in through the darkness. Faceless masses that stood in shadows, menacingly. This threw me into a cloudy state of rage. Of fear. I wanted to kill. This wave of anger washed over my pain and the static and I saw them as beasts to be destroyed. I cried out, in reaction to their sudden appearance. In addition to feeling swift dread, I'll admit. I'll admit that here. I reached to my left to get a hold of Geraldine, but she wasn't there. She wasn't there. I then noticed her glow across the room leaning against a wall, accompanied by my clothing and armor items. Their captors taunted me. This neo sensation of mortal terror was like another cold dagger of electricity stabbing me in the heart. Gutting me in front of the ensemble. I was exposed. Naked. The paint glob specters in the background move into the for and revealed themselves to be nothing but common folk with looks of concern. Villagers trying to ease me. My anger turned into a bleeding mass of confusion and the desire to go into a fit. I couldn't hear their words over the blood flowing through my head. Even if I could, I didn't want to hear it. I wanted to die. Pure, unperverted horror.

**Author's Note:**

> From the bottom of a torturous mountain to the heart of a haunted cellar room, what is to happen to Mao Mao now now?


End file.
